


Be With Me So Happily

by lovestrucklarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:12:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovestrucklarry/pseuds/lovestrucklarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry meets a short boy in queue for The Script and it's pretty evident this is going to end with someones trousers around their ankles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be With Me So Happily

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time writing this stuff so I'm sorry it sucks or if there are some royal grammar and spelling fucks. I'm not English, I'm from Ohio so I'm not really in on all the lingo used but I tried and therefore you shouldn't judge me.
> 
> This first chapter is kind of really short so I'm sorry for that but it's just sort of like the setting up thing? I don't know. xx
> 
> Any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you ahead of time for even reading this.

He'd been waiting a few months for the day to finally come. He'd taken the train early that morning from Holmes Chapel to Manchester to assure he was close to being first in line to see The Script. Much to his surprise, there was already a queue of he'd guess about 100 people sitting and standing in a line on the walkway outside the venue. It was the beginning of February so the air was crisp against his face. The wind had his curls pressed to his forehead as he reached the end of the line, smiling lightly at the group in front of him. He pulled his phone out;

_Made it all right. xx_

He'd texted before pocketing his phone. 

"Lovely day for standing outside for three hours, eh?" The boy behind him chimed in. He'd turned slightly to pull a smile at the comment. "Don't s'pose you're here with someone then? Bit young to be out alone." 

"I came alone." He replied, now standing side to the shorter boy, his hair tucked into a beanie wearing a fur necked jean jacket.

"'m Louis." The jean jacketed boy smiled, extending his hand to the one with curly hair.

"Harry." He shook Louis' hand, smiling halfheartedly.

"Are you from around here?" Louis continued the conversation.

"Cheshire. You?" his words were slow.

"Doncaster. But going to school here. Where's your seats at, then?"

"Floor, like to be right up in the action." Harry pulled his hands out of the pockets of his coat to speak that time. "This is my first concert as well. Making it memorable."

"Rightfully so. I'll be on the floor as well. Fancy standing next to me?" Louis had tried his very hardest not to make his words come off as flirtatious.

"I s'pose I don't have a choice now?" Harry's eyes lit up with his words, "Couldn't risk making this completely awkward."

The next three hours passed rather quickly, they felt. Between standing and sitting and talking and listening to the sound check coming from inside the venue. The nerves between the two of them could quite possibly combust a thirty story building into a pile of dust and debris. Harry's mind was wandering off on how Peter Pan was suddenly a very real thing when Louis spoke. He'd quietly and (hopefully) un-obviously observed the way Louis fidgeted his hands when speaking or when the line would move a bit his head would bob around to see what was happening, wobbling on the tips of his toes. Harry was a mountain to Louis. 

Louis was likely to be completely oblivious to this, that Harry was studying him. But Louis, likewise, was observing the way Harry was almost constantly pressing his curls away from his eyes or that his legs were lanky and took up a lot of his stature making it funny to watch him trip over his own feet when walking only a few steps. And those damn eyes. Bright green, piercing the dull February day that stood before them. Louis would shift to look around and over Harry at times just to watch Harry swing a glance at what was happening behind him.

When it came time that the gates finally opened, everyone had been chattering amongst each other. Filing into the building as a mass, Louis made sure not to lose sight of the tall curly headed boy he had just met. As Harry was sure not to lose Peter Pan in the sea of people, he'd look back every few seconds just to make sure, smiling. Right in the front against the barricade of the stage, the boys stood excitedly. The concert went just as they had hoped. Stood waiting until the crowd left, Louis leaned against the gate of the stage looking absolutely wrecked but over the moon about it. Harry looking similar, his curls pressed with sweat against his forehead. 

"Well, that was fun!" Louis' face lit up with a smile again as it had the entire two hour set. His face, gleaming with sweat, he slung his jacket over his shoulder. 

"That was.. that was amazing. I can't believe I just stood front and center for The Script." Harry's smile was beaming. Louis thought he looked like a giraffe.

"Woah, there, Harold. I can see your boner through those jeans of yours." Louis cackled at his own humor but stopped noticing Harry was only smirking. "Right then, shall we get a bite to eat or is this where our journey ends?"

"Food seems like a good idea, my train doesn't arrive for another hour and the station is only a couple blocks away." Harry combed his hair back with his fingers and Louis tried not to think about how nice Harry's hands would feel tangled in his own hands... or hair. He was fine with either.

They found a quiet diner on the corner across from the venue and settled for late night pancakes and coffee. The elderly men glared at Louis as he threw his head back laughing at something Harry had thought was only a little funny. "You're hilarious, curly." Louis would exclaim for all the diner to hear until they were the only two left. Harry learned that Louis couldn't cook and that he was majoring in Creative Writing and Music Education. He lived in a tiny flat with his mate Zayn and he'd left Doncaster for the first time to come to school two hours away. Harry had spoke none of himself and it was okay because Louis was filled with life and joy and Harry was almost constantly caught off guard by how Louis carried himself. It was about fifteen past midnight when Harry had finally realized that it was.. well.. fifteen past midnight and that he had missed his train by almost an hour.

He tossed his phone at the table, "Shit! I missed my train. What am I going to do? Mum's gonna kill me."

"You can crash at mine until morning and catch the first one out." Louis tossed in.

"I couldn't do that. We've only just met. You could be a killer or something, yeah?"

"Reckon I would have killed you by now, right? It's really not a problem." He was pushing the last bit of pancake that had gone cold a half hour ago around on the plate.

"Still, couldn't do that. Don't want to intrude." Harry rubbed at a spot above his left ear, looking puzzled.

"Now, Harold, I'm not one hundred percent on this, but I'm quite sure you've got no other option. Couldn't risk you actually getting killed off slumming it on the streets when there's a perfectly lumpy sofa you could crash on." He stood tossing a few bills onto the table. Harry groaned, defeated, standing up.

"Thanks, mate. Is there any way I can repay you?" They stepped back out into the early February air and made their way to a slightly beat up Honda sitting in a car park alone.

"A blow job will do just fine." Louis said walking slightly ahead of him. 

"Uhm, I mean.. I uh"

"I'm only kidding, kid. No charge."

Harry breathed again, a thankful breath at that. He slid into the passenger seat of the car before pulling his mobile out again and making a call. It was sure that his mum would still be up, pacing the hallway of his home, wondering where he is. It rang once before a voice picked up.

"Harold Edward Styles, where are you? You should be home by now. Is everything alright? Do I need to come get you?" Anne rattled off on one end.

"Mum, I missed my train. The next one doesn't go out until morning. I've got a place to stay. Everything's fine. I'll take the first train out in the morning. Will be fine, promise." and then Louis took the phone from him.

"Hi, yes, yes ma'am. This is Louis Tomlinson. I met your lovely son in the queue at the concert, we grabbed a bite to eat and I'm afraid this is all my fault. I live on campus and would be more than happy to put young Harold up for the night." Louis glanced at Harry while starting the car, "I assure you that your boy will be home tomorrow morning or you can toss me to the sharks yourself, ma'am. Yes, alright. Have a good night." He hung the phone up and handed it back to Harry.

"Smooth, Tomlinson." Harry exaggerated the last name,  pocketing the mobile once more, giving Louis a smirk.

"Now you really owe me a blow job." Louis cracked at his words as he pulled out of the car park and onto the empty street.

\--------------------

"Home sweet home." Louis spoke finally after a nearly silent ten minute car ride to his flat. And he was kidding in the slightest, a small liquor store occupied the bottom half of the building. One light shown through from the top, a small window. They made their way up the side fire escape, Harry a few steps behind Louis until the both stood on a small landing. "Welcome to the bachelor pad, curly." He opened the door to a tiny kitchen and a sink full of dishes while empty beer bottles littered the counter and Harry was almost certain there was a bong in the back corner. The living room (if you would honestly call it that) held a small sofa and an, out of place, large flat screen television. On that couch held another boy in all black, including his hair. He didn't look away from the tele that was displaying some kind of video game that Harry wasn't exactly familiar with. "This is Zayn." Louis broke the small silence as he laid his keys on the counter. Zayn looked up from the T.V. looking a bit disgruntled before pausing.

"Who's this?"

"Zayn, this is Harold."

"Harry. I'm Harry." 

"Young Harry here is crashing on the sofa tonight, Zayn-y" Louis gripped Harry's arms and shook a bit. "Little fella missed his train back home, couldn't leave'm out in the streets?"

"Right. Cool. Nice to meet you then, Harry. I've got to work early so I best be off to bed then. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Zayn. Nice to meet you."

"I'll be in in just a moment, love." Louis passed onto Zayn.

"Do you..." Harry shifted his eyes between Louis who was pulling blankets and a pillow from a small cupboard near the window he saw from outside and Zayn who was closing the door.

"This is a one bedroom. We share a room not a bed. Zayn's been my best mate since we were young ones. Nothing cheeky going on there." Louis threw Harry a flirtatious smile, "This should be enough blankets, yeah? Gets a bit cold in here sometimes."

Harry nodded and removed his jacket and nothing about this wasn't awkward. "Sweet dreams, Curly" Louis said walking into the small bedroom and closing the door. Harry sat on the sofa and as Louis had said, it was lumpy. He'd shut the light off in the kitchen and turned the tele off and laid back down on the sofa. 

Twenty minutes passed. And then thirty. And then an hour. Harry had laid there, going over the exceptionally well day he had. Flipping through the photos on his phone, grinning at each and every one. Even the one Louis took of him right after the opening act had left the stage to make way for The Script. Harry looked wrecked before the actual concert even started. The next photo was of Louis, looking up at the stage, eyes as wide as a little kids on Christmas morning, grinning ear to ear and Harry's heart fluttered. He thought nothing of it. Sure, Louis moved with elegance and spoke sarcastically and the way he'd toss his quiff back and crack his knuckles and how short he was compared to his own height and that he had his jeans rolled up just above the ankle even on that cold February day. Stop it. 

He sat his phone on the floor next to the sofa and laid back, staring at the ceiling. Another twenty minutes passed before he knew that sleep wasn't going to come easy. Rolling off the couch he pressed the home button on his phone to read a screen that said 02:17 a  Sunday, 10th of February. Sigh. He sat up and looked into the dark kitchen and decided what would be best. Sat quietly for a few moments listening to what was coming from the other side of the door, heavy breathing and audible tossing and turning and then he got up. Shifting around the kitchen he found a garbage bag and quietly put the empty beer bottles and Chinese food containers into the bag. Turning the faucet on as quietly as he possibly could, he washed the cups and the plates and the bowls that had been sitting there for God knows how long. Wiping down the counter space, the sink, and the small table that sat against the wall, moping the floor, and then tying the bag off and setting it by the door he made a mental note to take it out with himself in the morning. Staring now into the clean kitchen, he felt satisfied. It wasn't the blow job Louis wanted but he was sure it would get his dick a little hard knowing Harry had done this for him. He left a note on a recipt from Tesco's on the counter. And with that Harry slid back onto the couch and set an alarm for 7am and fell asleep quickly.

\---------------

 The next morning came rather quickly, Louis thought, awakening to the sound of Zayn's alarm going off. "Oi!!" Louis tossed a spare pillow in Zayn's direction.

"I'm up, for Christ's sake!" Zayn shouted grumpily, swinging his legs out of bed. He threw the pillow back at Louis who laid half unconscious pressed against the wall wrapped in his duvet, "Wanker." Zayn tossed at Louis when opening the door to the bedroom and walking out.

"Uh, Lou?" Zayn threw over his shoulder, back into the bedroom, "Louis who did you let sleep over? Louis that guy is gone and our kitchen is... it's spotless."

Disgruntled, Louis flung his feet onto the floor, "What are you talking ab-" He cut himself off, shifting his eyes from the sofa with folded duvets to the kitchen that was no longer littered with empty beer bottles and dirty dishes.

"Think this is for you, mate." Zayn shoved a small piece of paper into Louis' chest and walked back into the bedroom. Louis scrambled to uncrumble it.

_Thanks for the sofa_

_Harold_

_Harold_. Louis thought. Below his signed name was a mobile number he assumed belonged to the curly headed boy.  _Harold_. Louis, try as he might, couldn't stop the smile from engulfing his face.  _Harold_. He let himself feel happy then and that maybe this was something or nothing at all or everything.  _Harold_.


End file.
